Worlds Apart
by Pigwidgeon15
Summary: Incomplete Her friends saw her disappear. No one could find her. Where did she go? What happened to her?


"Hermione…HERMIONE! NO!!!!!"

"Harry….Har…"

"Harry, were is she?"

"I can't see her. HERMIONE!"

…

Last night Duffville was saved by The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter valiantly came to rescue, of the small wizarding village, fending off hoards of Death Eaters and stopping the small village burning to the ground…

_The Crystal Ball_

…

"It's alright Harry."

"Remus?"

"Hold on…the medi-wizards are on their way."

"Where…I can't…"

"Everything is going to be fine, just hold on."

"Remus…Hermione…she…gone."

"Keep your eyes open. Harry don't leave me! Stay with me. Harry! Keep your eyes open!"

…

"Let's go in and see Mr Potter… Harry Potter, in your own words, what happened two nights ago?"

"How did you get in here?"

"How was it that you captured so many Death Eaters?

"Get out of here."

"What was going through your head when you faced Voldemort with no one at your back? How would your parents feel about that?"

"I had my friends, something you no know nothing about, Rita."

"How did it feel to face Voldemort? Were you afraid, nervous, anxious?"

"How about I shove this microphone up your ass and you tell me how it feels?"

"Language now Harry, you're on the air…What friends, surely a hero like you needs no mere friends?"

"I said GET OUT!"

"Temper, temper Harry. Mustn't let it get awaaaAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

*BANG*

"Mr Potter!"

*Innocently* "Yes Healer Nettle?"

_WWN_

…

"They couldn't find her, Harry. The only thing left was her wand…Did you hear me?"

"Yes I heard you."

"We searched every-"

"Does Ron know?"

"He was out there searching too, limp arm and all. He spent three nights in the rain."

"I knew she shouldn't have come with us. Now we can't even find her. I should have been out there looking for her too."

"Harry, you were unconscious."

"I should have been THERE! … Where's Ron?"

"He's being treated by one of the Healers. He got pneumonia. Molly will be back soon, I'll stay unt-"

"No please. I need some time."

"Are you sure Harry?"

"Very."

…

~Death Notices~

Hermione Jane Granger, MuggleBorn Daughter and friend. Student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

_The Daily Prophet _

…

"That's all! That's ALL!...Look at it Ginny!"

"I know, Ron."

"She deserves more than this. I'm going to-"

"Sit down, Ron! You know you can't do anything about it. It's the Prophet. The Ministry has too much control over it. You're too hot headed sometimes. You need to learn to cool down before you blow your top and do something stupid."

"I know. But it's for Hermione. I loved her. She was my sister too Ginny."

"I know, Ron, I know… Luna said her Dad was going to do a tribute to Hermione in the Quibbler next edition."

"That'll be nice. I think she would have liked that."

"Me too."

…

"What's the point, Albus? They'll be burying an empty coffin?"

"It will help them accept that she is really gone."

"Of course she's gone, we looked for days, _I_ looked for days when I could have been doing better things."

"They need acceptance. It doesn't matter that the coffin is empty. It's a symbol. Harry needs to move on. He still has Tom to face. He doesn't need this clouding his judgment."

"Potter's judgement has always been clouded."

…

"Ashes, to ashes. Dust to dust. May she rest in peace."

"May she rest in peace."

…

Somewhere in England 

Nurse Lucy Caldwell looked up from her paper work to see a rather haggard looking woman standing in front of the accident and emergency window of the Mercy hospital, staring at a poster on the cork board to her left. Behind her was a waiting room, sitting three people at the moment, all of which had been entered into the system and were waiting to see a doctor.

"May I help you?" she asked sweetly. You never knew what sort of people you were going to encounter here, it was always best to be on your toes.

Dragging her thoughts away from the piece of paper advertising a motor bike for sale at 132 Lock Lane and where Lock Lane might possibly be, the young woman dropped her eyes to the white counter for a moment. Pulling her eyes up, she looked at the tidily dressed woman behind the perspecs shield and with a scratchy voice much unlike her own asked, "Where am I?"

"The Mercy Hospital madam, accident and emergency department."

Lifting a shaky hand to her forehead she pressed against the growing pain at her temples. Gods, where was she? The last thing she remembered was dragging herself in here. But where was this hospital?

Sighting her confusion still, Lucy added, "George Street, Sudbury. Are you alright?" The young woman groaned, mumbling something as she lent against the counter. "Can you tell me your name?" asked Miss Caldwell.

"Aahhhh…uummmm…" But that was all she seemed to be able to say as she slumped forward a little, her knees threatening to give way. "…I umm…ah…"

Noticing the quickly paling complexion of the woman she suggested that she take a seat while she waited to see a doctor. Nodding slightly she stood a little straighter, using her hand that had been pressed to her temple to press off the perspecs and help regain her balance. The young nurse gasped the hand smeared blood down the window. She watched the blood begin to pour down the grimy looking woman's face for a second before coming to her senses.

"Doctor Grae!" she called anxiously as she stepped around the desk towards the doorway. She opened the door just in time to see the young woman collapse, her wild, mattered, dirty brown hair falling over her face and the blue specked linoleum, her black cape fluttering around her calves and her hand smearing the blood over the floor.

…

Sitting in the staff lounge, doctor Grae sipped on his straight black coffee as he flicked through his patient's charts. Not much had changed since his last shift. The few patients he had seen in ANE had left except for the mystery girl. She was about 17 or 18 years old. Lucy had been the only one to talk to her when she first came in and she had been unconscious since.

Her injuries had been extensive; broken bones, internal bruising, burns, lacerations. You name it, she had it. From the looks of it these were her first injures which certainly didn't indicate any sort of on going abuse. According to Lucy, she had no idea where she was or even who she was.

Washing his cup out and leaving to drain on the sink he gathered up the rest of his charts and started on his morning rounds.

…

With a groan Hermione opened her eyes, the brightness surrounding her causing her to squint. Her arms and legs felt as if they were made out of lead, along with her eyelids. After a moment her eyes focused and she saw ceiling above her. It was white, plain white ceiling. Her head was throbbing as if she had been attacked with a jackhammer. Every breath she took hurt making her suspect that she had several broken ribs.

Rolling her head to the side she took in the room. There was a small bedside table supporting a water jug and cup. On the wall was a panel with all number of fittings, hoses and tubes attached. An uncomfortable, green and white chair sat against a wall beside a trolley containing all manner of sterile goods. The side rails of the bed she was in had been raised and a calling device tied to the rail to within reach.

Each breath she took felt moist and irritating, not to mention that it hurt her ribs. Raising her head a little she saw the door to the far left and not much else in the room. Looking at her arms which had been placed over the covers she saw that one arm was plastered with two little wires sticking out from what appeared to be under her pinky and ring fingers. 'Great,' she thought. 'I've gone and broken my hand. At least I can heal it myself once I get out of here. Wherever the hell 'here' is.' In her other arm was a drip intravenously pumping her with fluids and whatever else they had concocted up. Wherever she was, it certainly wasn't the wizarding world.

This niggle in her throat was really starting to irritate her now. Preparing herself for the pain that was going to follow she flopped her head back on to the side and coughed. Boy did it hurt. It felt as though someone had kicked chest in three different places simultaneously. Gritting her teeth and taking short breaths in through her nose she rode out the pain. Finally she opened her eyes to spot the fine splatter of blood she had coughed up over the corner of her sheets. 'Well they will need to be changed soon.' Swallowing the residing moisture in her mouth the coppery taste of blood assaulted her tastebuds. Grimacing slightly she closed her eyes to try and get a little rest only to be interrupted when the door opened. Too tired to lift her head she simply stayed where she was.

She had no idea where she was. The last thing she remembered…well it was difficult to say. Flashes of light blinded her mind, flashes of memories raced through her head, people fighting, Harry calling her name, wands slashing, Malfoy laughing as he captured her, people screaming. Draco shoving a potion down her throat. It was all too much but the memories continued to come.

…

Natalie reached room 15. Parking her trolley outside she went in and gathered the clipboard from the end of the bed, skimming through the notes the doctor had made. Natalie paused at the name. 'Funny,' she thought off handily. 'Don't get many Jane Doe's.' With an internal shrug she walked up beside the bed and took down the arm wrap to take the brunettes blood pressure.

As she wrapped the band around the slender arm she heard the girl mumble.

"Hey," she greeted, noting the reading on the pressure metre. "It's good to see you're awake." Walking around the bed she noted the readings down on the chart before going around to the girl. Squatting down she looked her in the eye.

Her face was a little bruised but that wasn't her main problem. She had several burns, one on her shoulder, two on her legs and one along her flank. There were a few broken bones including several broken ribs and a shattered hand. Then there were the minor injuries a few scrapes, cuts, slices. No one knew what this girl had been through but the authorities wanted to question her. After the doctor of course.

"Hey," the nurse said again. Hermione managed a weak greeting. "Try not to talk too much. Your wind pipe is bit raw." Hermione looked down at the blankets where her blood had splattered. "You've been coughing I see. Well," she added standing up, "the doctor has ordered you to take some medication as soon as you awake so that you can tell us your name and answer some of his questions." Reaching over she removed the small tubing from under Hermione's nose that she hadn't even noticed was there, hooking it over a small tap and changing it for a face mask. "You'll probably have this on tonight and that will clear up your breathing, okay?"

"The doctor should be in here soon to speak to you." Tucking the chart onto the bottom of the bed the nurse left to complete her rounds.

Breathing in the soothing medicine, Hermione felt it begin to coat her trachea, its anaesthetic properties numbing the rawness. Within moments, sleep overtook her.

…

Several minutes later Hermione woke to find a doctor standing at the bottom of her bed. He looked in his mid thirties with little streaks of grey coming from his temples and disappearing into his bowl cut mousy brown hair.

"Ah. It's good to see you're awake," he said replacing the chart and came around to the side of the bed. "I need to know, are you allergic to any medications?" Hermione shook her head. "Very good then." Turning to the trolley beside the wall he readied a small syringe. "This is just something to help with the pain," he explained as he inserted it into her drip.

"Now," he said drawing up a chair and grabbing her chart. "I need to ask you a few questions, alright?" Reaching behind the bed he turned off the oxygen mask and replaced it with the small tube she had been wearing when the nurse had come in before.

"Feel better?"

"Yes thank-you," she replied, cover stories for her injuries running through her mind. She was in a car accident, that didn't explain the burns and where was the car? She was hit by a car, why weren't her legs broken then? She was in a horse riding accident and was burn by a branding bar, yes, that would do.

"Now first question, what's your name?"

'Justine Batterby.'

"Hermione Granger," she blurted out before she could stop it. She could feel her head becoming fuzzy, her conscious thoughts muddled. 'Oh, no!' she thought as the panic set in. It was the potion Malfoy had given her after kidnapping her.

"_This mudblood, is a truth potion. Not one of your ordinary truth potions, no no. This is a specially designed potion. You see, I give you the potion and all the while you are questioned, you are lucid and know every little piece of data you tell me. Rather clever if I do say so myself."_

The doctor scribbled a few notes down before asking a few more run of the mill questions, her date of birth, her parent's names, where she lived.

"Why is it that you are so far away from your home?"

'Oh no, here it comes,' she thought.

"I go to boarding school," she answered. She waited for her tongue to begin running away but she remained silent to her relief.

"I noticed the emblem on your school cloak. I haven't seen it around, not to mention I can't remember the last time schools had cloaks as apart of their uniform?"

'Oh, shit. Here it comes.'

"Well, I go to Hogwarts," she said before mumbling, "_School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_." Then a bit louder, "It's up somewhere in Scotland. It gets rather cold and heavy cloaks keep the school population warm. _Not to mention robes and cloaks are worn by all witches and wizards_," she added with a mumble praying the doctor had bad hearing. "It's rather exclusive, _only taking students with magical powers_. No one really knows its exact location _because of all the wards around the castle _for security reasons."

"That's…very interesting," said the doctor looking at her a bit sceptically before clicking his pen and scribbling a whole paragraph down on his clipboard. "Do you honestly believe you are a witch?" he asked with a very straight face.

Hermione's mind ran around in circles looking for a way, a loop hole, anything rather than saying straight out she was a witch. It wasn't that she didn't believe she was. She knew she was, it was just that if she said it the doctor would think she was a complete loony. Unless…

"Yes of course I'm a witch," she told the doctor with as much sarcasm as she could manage as he sat there in his black trousers and blue shirt and blue and black striped tie watching her with extreme interest. "I wear robes, own a wand, go to a magical school, study subjects such as charms and potions instead of maths and English and I own a cat which has been crossed with a Kneasel. Of course I'm a WITCH!" she finished, completely playing up the 'I can't believe you think, I think I'm a witch' part.

The doctor just looked at her for a moment. "What?" she asked, the irritation evident in her tone.

"Nothing at all," he told her calmly with a smile as his parker pen scribbled away on the clipboard once more, what Hermione would give to see what he was writing about her. "Now then," he said with a reassuring smile that made her feel like a complete idiot. "How is it that you ended up here?"

"Um…" How was she going to get out of this one? "Well there is this war going on right now _in the magical world _and…I…I'm just a casualty." 'That's right. Make him think that its like a street war or something.' "There's this battle going on between Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the Light. You know how street gangs all have nicknames and their members' street names," she added emphasising the whole street gang view. The potion didn't stop her interjecting facts.

"Okay. Do the police know about this street war?"

"It's not a street war," she blurted out before she could manipulate her words otherwise.

"Well then what is it?" he asked a little confused.

"The battle of the century between good and evil." She'd really put her foot in it now.

"I'm a little confused," said doctor Grae. "Could you please explain this whole situation from the beginning?"

'Ah shit…well I can always claim I was joking later or something.' All this word manipulation was giving her a headache and the potion was starting to push her to tell the complete truth. She just couldn't do it. She needed time to practice, come up with answers for the questions, time to prepare. Time, it was one luxury she didn't have. No one had the luxury of time. 'As they say; in for the penny in for the pound.'

"I am a witch. I attend a school of magic and my best friends are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Summing up the whole ordeal, Voldemort is basically a bad wizard who is more snake than human but wants to be immortal. A prophecy states that neither can live while the other survives. Now up in Scotland, not far from Hogwarts, is a small town called Duffville. Death Eaters, Voldemort's bad wizard henchmen attacked this village. Harry had had a vision that they were going to and with his whole hero complex, went in to save the day, yet again. I knew I had to go along because the boys are simply very headstrong, always rushing into situations before they think. I have to think for all three of us. It's a bit annoying sometimes.

"Well I ended up getting captured by my fellow classmate right in the middle of the battle, just disapparated me straight out. He pumped me full of truth serum and started his whole I'm better than your speech. While he was gasbagging away, my side, the Light, was getting the upper hand of the battle and well he raced off to go join the fight. I ended up freeing myself but by the time I was right to go the building was collapsing around me and I took a few hard hits. I disapparated out in a panic and well you know the rest," she finished with a sigh. 'I wonder how many magical regulations I've just broken.' "I have no idea what has even happened, if my friends even survived. Do they even know if I'm alive?"

"Alright then," said the doctor, yet again. His reassuring words were really getting annoying. "Ah…what does the term 'disapparate' mean?"

"Silly me," Hermione said with a sickly sweet voice. "Disapparate is the term used to describe the movement of a wizard and/or witch when they disappear from one place and seemingly reappear at another at the exact same moment. Apparate is the term used to describe the appearing of a wizard and/or witch seemingly out of thin air. But of course I shouldn't be telling you any of this because of all the magical regulations surrounding Muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Non-magical people. But that doesn't cover Squibs. They are from a magical background but have no magical powers. The wizarding world has this whole blood hierarchy. Purebloods are magical people who have magical parents back ten generations. Half-Bloods generally have one magical, one non-magical parent. Magical people generally fall into that category but most claim to be Pureblood despite having a non-magical great-grandparent. Lastly there are people like me; Muggleborns who have Muggles for both of their parents. Anything else you would like to know?" The doctor didn't say anything, simply looked at her a little curiously. "Anything about magic, the blood hierarchy, the Ministry of Magic, what I learn at school? Nope, nothing? Alright then, do you know where my wand is so I can fix myself up?" The doctor still didn't say anything, just looked at her as if she was a complete nut. "You know, a wand. A pointy stick? A piece of wood tapered down to a round end?"

The doctor cleared his throat. "Um no, I'm afraid that I haven't see your wand. Is there anything else?"

"No, I'm fine. I just have to wait off this truth serum," she answered feeling quite tired after this whole ordeal.

"Alright then. The nurse will be around later." With that the doctor stood and exited the room sparing only a quick glance back to the resting girl. He really needed to contact Andrew and see about getting a transfer. The Mercy Hospital really was no place for a mentally ill patient.

…

Hermione woke to the sound of a nurse bustling around her room. Groggily Hermione moved up onto her right elbow.

"Oh, it's good to see you're awake, darling," shrieked a voice that was entirely too high pitched. "We're just going get you cleaned up, okay? Get you all nice and clear before your transferral."

"Transferral?" asked Hermione. "There must be a mistake? I don't need to be transferred."

"Doctors orders, love," she answered pulling back the covers and stripping her bed clothes. Despite Hermione's insistence that she could bath herself, the nurse gave her a sponge bath in her own bed after which she brushed her hair. By the end Hermione felt much cleaner.

…

It was the next morning before Hermione saw doctor Grae again.

"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted her as he strolled into her room at a quarter to eight. "How are you feeling today?"

"A little tender, sir," she answered whilst fussing a little with the covers.

"Alright then. We'll just take a look at your ribs shall we," he said, carefully putting down the top of the bed and pulling back the sheet to reveal her dress. Lifting her arm out of the way he pushed against Hermione's ribs causing her hiss in pain before repeating it on the other side. What was it with doctors and causing pain?

"They seem to be healing nicely," he commented as he looked over her burns which had been dressed by the nurse last night. There was one across the side of her calf and another that grazed her thigh. Both had been neatly dressed. With a slight nod the doctor continued his examination, taking a look at her stiches, listening to her chest, checking the dressing on her side, looking down her throat, a lot of doctor-y things.

"All done."

"Doctor?" Hermione asked as he washed his hands in a basin.

Doctor Grae looked up as he continued to wash his hands.

"I was informed I was getting a transfer? Why?" she asked seriously hoping that it wasn't to a psychiatric ward.

"There are people out there that can help you better than I can," he replied cryptically.

"Like other doctors?"

"Yes," he answered as he rinsed his hands off.

"That work in psychiatric facilities?"

"Um…"

"It's a simple yes or no answer, Doctor," she replied a little impatiently. The doctor said nothing and instead dried his hands. "Are you or are you not transferring me to a psychiatric ward, facility and/or institution?"

"A position has been arranged for you at Holly Park Psychiatric Institution," he answered calmly.

"Why? You think I'm mentally unstable?" she asked outrageously. Mentally she scoffed, 'Yes that is right, start going psycho on them, that's the trick!'

"Hermione, calm down."

"I've just been told that I'm going to be locked away in the loony bin. Anyone in my situation would be and I believe has every right to be a little distressed." Oh gods, what had she gotten herself into? Where was the ministry? Why wasn't anyone looking for her? Where was the Order, the Death Eaters, the Aurors, anyone?

"Nurse," the doctor called. A moment later Nurse Caldwell appeared at the door. "Can you please prepare 7.5mg of Prolixin."

"Certainly doctor," she replied hurriedly stepping out of the room.

"No," Hermione pleaded. She needed to be awake and alert not some zombie human. "Please! I promise I'll be good."

The doctor however offered her no compromise as he waited for the nurse to return.

"Doctor Grae?" asked a voice from the doorway. "Do you need any assistance?"

"No I don't think so," he replied as he took the syringe off the nurse who had ducked in behind the older doctor. Stepping up to the bed he added it to her drip.

"Noooo," said Hermione as she reached to pull out the needle in her arm.

"Doctor Heinbeck," said Doctor Grae as he tried to pin down her arm. In a flash the balding doctor had her other arm as the nurse attached the restraints to her arms and feet.

"No, let me go," Hermione pleaded as she pulled against their combined weight, her movements becoming sluggish as the medication took hold.

"It's alright," said the doctor to her right. "Everything will be fine. Just relax."

"No it won't be," she sobbed as she arched weakly against her bonds, the room quickly becoming fuzzy.

…

Drowsy, Hermione managed to peer through her squinting lashes. Where ever she was it was dark. Not a pitch black you can't see your hand in front of your face dark, but dark so that she couldn't properly make out the shapes around. There were darkened shapes indicating things around the room where she lay. There really was no use trying to make out anything.

'It must be late,' she concluded then chuckled at her astute observation. When she made to sit up she found that she was still in restraints, leaving her no way to move. Huffing she slumped back against her pillow that was now at the wrong angle after her squirming.

How was she going to get out of here? What was she going to do? Was there anyone looking for her? Was she going to be stuck here forever? NO. She had to be strong. She was going to find a way out of here if it killed her. She was not mentally ill. She just needed to get back home.

…


End file.
